Oh, What A Valiant Faculty Is Hope.

Is It Not Better To Remain In Suspense Than To Entangle Yourself In The Many Errors That The Human Fancy Has Produced? Is It Not Better To Suspend Your Convictions Than To Get Mixed Up In These Seditious And Quarrelsome Divisions?

I Have Seen Books Made Of Things Neither Studied Nor Ever Understood ... The Author Contenting Himself For His Own Part, To Have Cast The Plot And Projected The Design Of It, And By His Industry To Have Bound Up The Fagot Of Unknown Provisions; At Least The Ink And Paper His Own. This May Be Said To Be A Buying Or Borrowing, And Not A Making Or Compiling Of A Book.

What We Are Told Of The Inhabitants Of Brazil, That They Never Die But Of Old Age, Is Attributed To The Tranquility And Serenity Of Their Climate; I Rather Attribute It To The Tranquility And Serenity Of Their Souls, Which Are Free From All Passion, Thought, Or Any Absorbing And Unpleasant Labors. Those People Spend Their Lives In An Admirable Simplicity And Ignorance, Without Letters, Without Law, Without King, Without Any Manner Of Religion.

Though We May Be Learned By Another's Knowledge, We Can Never Be Wise But By Our Own Experience.

I, Who Am King Of The Matter I Treat, And Who Owe An Accounting For It To No One, Do Not For All That Believe Myself In All I Write. I Often Hazard Sallies Of My Mind Which I Mistrust.